Cool Uncle Greg
by hwshipper
Summary: House Wilson established relationship. Wilson gets fed up with House, angry!hate!sex ensues. *Warnings: Dubious consent, references to sexualization of minors.*


**Title:** Cool Uncle Greg  
**Author:** hwshipper  
**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to Heel and Toe Films, Shore Z Productions and Bad Hat Harry Productions in association with Universal Media Studios.  
**Beta:** bornbeautiful wonderful as ever  
**Summary:** Written for gethouselaid prompt: House/Wilson -- Wilson gets fed up with House. Angry/Hate!sex ensues.

**Warnings: Dub con. References to sexualization of minors.** If you might be offended by either or both, then please don't read.

**Cool Uncle Greg**

"I am completely fed up with you." Wilson stalked into the hotel room and threw his jacket down on the bed. "I hardly ever see Jonathan, let alone the girls, and we didn't even manage to get through lunch. You just can't resist baiting him, can you?"

House closed the door behind him and turned wide blue eyes in Wilson's direction. _"Moi?"_

"Yes, you!" Wilson put his hands on hips and turned to face House. As the room was barely bigger than the double bed it held, he was only a foot or so away.

"It's your fault for dragging me along. I didn't ask to come," House retorted. "And anyway, I barely did anything. Your idiot brother should know better than to make cripple jokes. Only I get to make cripple jokes."

"House, it's been a year since we last saw him, it's the first time he's seen you like... this. He was embarrassed and didn't know what to say!"

"Bullshit," House said indignantly. "Stop making excuses for him. Your jackass brother has hated me for years. Now he can add _cripple_ to his list of reasons to despise me, along with _rude, nasty, unable to hold down a job,_ and--now I've just driven away my girlfriend of the last five years--renewed suspicion that I'm possibly having my wicked way with his precious kid brother--"

"If you carry on behaving like this, don't count on it tonight," Wilson said coldly.

House looked carefully at Wilson, trying to figure out if he was serious. Hmm, possibly. The temptation to further goad was nevertheless irresistible. House perched on the edge of the bed, and went on, "Your brother is an intolerant hot-tempered alcoholic bastard, and the only good thing he's ever done in his life is produce two hot daughters."

"Excuse me?" Wilson spluttered in indignation. "Those are my nieces you're talking about."

"So?" House propped his cane up against the side of the bed.

"House, they're fourteen years old!"

"Exactly. They're a walking talking wet dream. Fourteen year old identical twin girls, nubile and gorgeous. Put them in school uniforms, with knee-high socks, and they might as well be in a porn movie. Actually, I think we saw a porn rather like that last year--"

"This is not funny!" Wilson wheeled round with a flash of anger. Genuine anger, a hand raised to point accusingly.

House grabbed Wilson by the wrist and couldn't resist saying, with a wolfish grin, "No, it's not funny. It's _hot._"

Wilson moved to hit House with his other hand and House grabbed that wrist too. House expected a playful wrestle, but he'd misjudged. Wilson lifted a knee and drove it into House's right thigh. _Hard._

That was crossing a major line, and the agonized cry that House couldn't stifle was partly pure physical pain and partly amazed outrage. Wilson took advantage of House's momentary lack of balance to free his hands and grab each of House's wrists instead. Next thing, House found himself flat on his back on the bed, arms raised and pinned back, Wilson straddling him and using his weight to keep House still.

"There are some things you just don't joke about," Wilson said evenly, and his expression was as furious as House could remember seeing it. "This is one of them."

House could feel sweat breaking out on his brow at the daggers drawing patterns down his bad leg. His hand twitched in an effort to reach for the pill bottle in his pocket, but Wilson held firm.

Still House could not resist a come-back. "Actually I think it's because they've got the Wilson family brown puppy dog eyes, that's what really makes me want to--"

_"Shut the fuck up!"_ Wilson barked, and House was startled into silence.

"For that," Wilson said, his tone no longer even, "I'm going to fuck your potty mouth."

And Wilson reached down to undo his fly. He had to let go of one of House's hands to do so, and House could have wriggled free if he'd really tried, but he didn't--partly surprised by Wilson's reaction, and partly agog to see what Wilson would do.

The sound of Wilson's zipper so very close to his ears sent a curious thrill down House's spine, and next thing House found Wilson's knees clamping his head hard. Then he got a brief glimpse of Wilson's cock--looking ridiculously large this close-up--before Wilson thrust right into House's mouth.

House could barely move, couldn't see, couldn't speak, could barely even hear any more; was only conscious of the taste and feel of Wilson's cock driving down his throat, further than House would have thought possible. He gagged, and Wilson pulled back slightly; only to thrust again, even deeper this time. House wanted to cry out, _I can't deep throat like you fucking well can!_--but could only manage a strangled gulp. He could feel his own cock pulsating inside his pants, but was helpless to do anything to relieve it except try and buck his hips into the air.

And then Wilson's heavy gasps ran into one long moan, and salty liquid started to pump into House's mouth. Both repulsed and electrified, House tried not to swallow but his throat contracted and told him otherwise. In a corner of his mind he tried to remember what the protein content of semen was. Finally Wilson pulled out, spent, and House wrenched his head sideways and spat out as much as he could.

"Bastard," House gasped, trying to wipe come off his lips onto the bed covers.

Wilson sat back on his heels, releasing House's wrists, breathing heavily. Then he shifted sideways and sank onto the bed next to House. Hands free at last, House reached for his fly with one hand and his pill bottle in his pocket with the other, gulping Vicodin from one palm while starting to roll his cock in the other.

"Not gonna give me a hand?" House panted, as his gag reflex convulsed again and almost stopped the second dry pill grazing its way down his throat.

Wilson watched through dark chocolate eyes as House pumped himself, and didn't move for a minute or so. Then he reached out with one hand, and swept his fingertips casually over the tip of House's cock. The delicate brush of Wilson's hand was the perfect, final touch; House's fist stopped in midair, a whine forced its way out of his larynx, and he came, spurting up across his own T-shirt. He then lay flat onto the bed, completely exhausted.

Wilson curled up beside him, and murmured, "You lay a finger on either of them, House, and Jon will kill you. Slowly and painfully. And I'll stand by and let him do it."

"You're so easy to wind up." House just about managed a whisper. "You're just jealous because you're Dorky Uncle James who worries about their SATs and grade point average. While I'm Cool Uncle Greg who plays the guitar, buys them alcohol, and sells them drugs."

"I'm charitably assuming you're still winding me up with that last," Wilson muttered. "Anyway, Cool Uncle Greg? Creepy Pervy Uncle Greg if you ask me."

"Huh, you really can't talk, not after what you just did to me--"

"Shut up," Wilson said, his voice now indulgent. He raised himself on an elbow to kiss House on the mouth, and House felt Wilson shudder deliciously at the taste.

END


End file.
